(I Am) Frozen
by ProvenTitaniumObsidian
Summary: "ALFIE, NO!" "He doesn't believe in magic anymore," "Nothin's in my way!" "Enough, Alfred." "Arendelle is..." When the King and Queen of picturesque Arendelle die in a storm, the reclusive Crown Prince Arthur ascends to the throne. However, Arthur's past is irrevocably entwined with his younger brother, Alfred. (Re-telling of Frozen with Hetalia characters)
1. Chapter 1

Okay, so I know that you haven't heard from me in a while… (heh, understatement).

Just wanted to let you know that I'm REALLY SORRY for the delay. RL has been a bitch.

BUT, I wanted to get started with the story ideas I've had floating around for months! One of which is a Hetalia x Frozen AU crossover ('cause why not?).

Peace and Happy Livings!

P.T.O. ~ Neko x

A humble castle, built of wood, nestled in a deep fjord. The soft moonlight casts an ethereal glow over the water, and glints off the deep-paned windows. All is silent. In this castle live the King and Queen of the town, Arendelle, and their two sons, Alfred and Arthur; as well as numerous servants, butlers and chefs for the slumbering Royal family.

Except on this night, this _particular_ night, not all of the Royals are asleep.

"Arthur." The young boy doesn't stir, nestled deep in his blankets.

"Hey, Artie! Wake up! _Psst!_ WAKE UP."

The (formerly) asleep boy turns over in bed, cracking open a single verdant eye to glare threateningly at the annoyance next to him. He raises one of his large eyebrows in silent condemnation.

"Go back to sleep, Alfred."

"But I _can't!"_ The figure of a second boy climbs up and over Arthur and purposefully spreads his weight on his brother, lying on his back and staring at the ceiling. "The sky's still awake, so _I'm_ awake, so we _have_ to play!" The younger boy leans back down to smile brightly into Arthur's half-asleep face. "Right?"

"No, not right," Arthur turns again sharply, sending Alfred tumbling off of him and onto the floor, "Go play by yourself!"

"Aww!" Alfred sits on the floor, the very picture of dejection. The curl at the front of his hair droops despondently, and he lets out another exaggerated sigh, before peeking through his fringe to see his older brother's reaction. Nothing.

Alfred huffs again, this time in frustration, before pouting heavily in thought. Then, his face lights up.

"Hey, Arthur?" He asks, climbing on top of him once more, and pulling at an eyebrow. "Do you wanna build a snowman?"

A green eye opens again, in glee, and the two boys grin.

Alfred, now wearing snow boots slightly too big, pulls his brother by the hand, down the wide sweeping staircases, and through the empty halls.

"Come on, come on, come on!" He cries excitedly, ignoring Arthur's frantic shushing.

Before long, they reach a familiar ballroom, the moonlight streaming in through the wide windows and casting inky shadows on the walls. Alfred turns to his older brother in anticipation as Arthur goes to shut the heavy ballroom doors.

"Do the magic, Artie! Do the magic!" He giggles. Arthur laughs with him, and slowly begins to draw patterns with his hands, sending icy green spirals and snowflakes spinning from his hands, as a snowball begins to form from thin air. Alfred's face lights up in delight.

Glancing up at Alfred's shining face, Arthur's smile widens, and he throws the snowball up, up into the air and it bursts like ice fireworks. Flurries of white snow drift and dance across the room, sending Alfred spinning to catch the snowflakes in his hands and mouth. "This is amazing!" He yells.

Arthur's almost hesitant face lightens in relief, and his chuckles again under his breath, before calling, "Watch this!"

Arthur stomps his small slipper-covered foot and a layer of green sea-ice spreads across the floor, coating the marble and forming a giant ice rink. Alfred slides about, laughing with glee.

Through the long night, the boys play together and Arthur forgets about his former tiredness and the time of day, enjoying spending so much time with his little brother. They roll together giant snowballs and build a snowman. Arthur frowns at it playfully before clicking his fingers and shouting, "Aha!"

He carefully crafts long snowy hair for the snowman and grins, before turning to Alfred and waving the stick arms. Clearing his throat, he says in his best accent, "Bonjour, I'm Francis and I like warm-"

He's cut off by Alfred jumping up and hugging him hard, "I love him, Artie! He looks like that guy that comes over from the mainland, the one you don't like!"

Arthur blushes lightly, and hugs him back, "So you noticed, huh?"

"Yep! But, you still did an awesome job!" Alfred and Francis begin dancing across the room, with Arthur moving Francis and sometimes Alfred with his magic.

They then start to build massive snow slides and race each other to the bottom with glee.

Alfred fearlessly jumps off a snow column into mid-air. "Catch me, Artie!"

"Gotcha!" Arthur cries, as he forms another snow peak underneath Alfred. The smaller boy giggles and does it again, Arthur catching him once more.

Alfred gets higher and higher, jumping faster and faster, and Arthur begins to get frightened.

"Alfred, I can't keep up!"

Alfred goes again, ignoring the warning in favour of having too much fun. "Again, again!"

"Slow down!" Arthur yells, and suddenly slips. The last bolt of green ice magic had already left his hand, and struck Alfred in the head.

"ALFIE, NO!" Arthur shrieks as Alfred tumbles off a snowbank and lands unconscious on the floor; Arthur scrambles toward him and lifts him into his arms. The large curl at Alfred's fringe turns white, and continues in a streak to the crown of his hair.

The eight year old's eyes widen in horror, and he screams again for his parents. "MAMA! PAPA! HELP!" His ice magic begins to spin out of control, filling the room with dangerous dark green ice spikes, as the sound of banging on the shaking doors begins to echo.

His parents, the King and Queen, finally manage to burst through the frozen doors, and gasp at the appearance of the room.

His father begins to stride forwards in anger, "Arthur, what have you done?! This is getting far out of hand-"

"Alfie!" The Queen shouts in alarm, catching sight of the too-pale boy in the arms of his brother.

"I'm so sorry! It was an accident, I didn't mean it… Alfie…" Arthur begins to sob in shock and fear as the King and Queen take Alfred from his arms. The Queen's gaze is focused only on her five year old son.

"He's ice cold!" She whimpers in fear. The King's worried brow straightens in resignation.

"I know where we must go."

The King leafs through many a stack of books as Arthur sits in the corner, doing the same. Eventually, they find an ancient, crumbling book inscribed with Norse Runes; the King sifts through it and scrambles for an old map hidden in the pages.

With the King carrying Alfred and Arthur riding behind his mother, the family ride their horses out of Arendelle. Snow swirls in bright patterns from Arthur's hands, and it streams behind them in an icy green trail; Arthur clenches his fists shut in fright.

A small boy of eight years travels through the woods with his reindeer companion. All of a sudden, the King and Queen race past, a wake of ice and snowflakes flying to the ground behind them.

"Ice?" He asks himself, as he looks to the steadily fading horses.

"Faster, Gil!" The young boy cries, as he rides the reindeer along the trail of snow in pursuit of the figures he saw gallop past.

The boy climbs down off his reindeer friend as the trail stops at the edge of a deep valley. They walk together and hide behind a large rock as the Queen comes into view, holding the hand of a terrified Arthur. The King is beside them, Alfred still unconscious and cradled in his arms.

"Please, help," He calls out, desperately, "My son!"

A sudden fall of rocks tumble from the top of the valley, stopping just shy of the Royals, and unfold to reveal the faces of rock trolls.

"Trolls…?" The unknown boy whispers, his shining eyes open wide in amazement, even as the rock just in front of his wriggles and unfolds into a troll itself. She turns and shushes the boy playfully, "I'm trying to listen!"

He quickly apologises before flinching as she grabs them both and hugs them close, peering thoughtfully at the pair. "Cuties," she declares happily, "I'm gonna keep you."

Back at the valley floor, the crowd of rock trolls parts to reveal a troll as old as the Earth. He is called Grandpa Roma by many, and as he slowly approaches the King his family, he nods respectfully.

"Your Majesty," he says to the King, before peering at the wide-eyed child standing next to the Queen. "Born with the powers, or cursed?"

"Born," The King replies, worriedly, "And they're getting stronger."

The old troll nods gravely, and gestures for Alfred to be brought closer to him. After carefully examining the consequences of Arthur's magic on Alfred, he speaks carefully to the King. "You are lucky that it wasn't his heart. The heart is not so easily changed, but the head can be persuaded."

"Do what you must." Says the King, not liking the words coming from the troll's mouth.

Grandpa Roma sighs, "I recommend we remove all magic, even the memories to be safe. But don't worry, I'll leave the fun."

Grandpa Roma pulls the energy from Alfred's mind for the family to see. It glistens red, white and blue in the dim light of the valley, and Arthur watches as Alfred's memories are changed. From creating snowmen with his magic, the scenes change to building them outside in winter. All the magic is removed from his head.

_"He doesn't believe in magic anymore," _Arthur realises, and a single crystalline tear drops down his cheek and falls to the snowy ground, _"And he never will again."_

The tear freezes before it hits the floor, and shatters like stardust.

**a/n update 22/03/15, added the line breaks again because hates me ;)**


	2. Chapter 2

Hey guys...! (hehehe~ *looks sheepish*)

Long time, no see?

Honestly, I have no excuse, my willpower has plummeted and is currently residing somewhere around the 6th circle of hell. *sighs*

But I've put off this chapter too long, so here. :)

p.s. there are a couple of references to other fandoms - you spot them, and you get a chapter dedication (whenever the next one comes out anyway...)!

P.T.O. ~ Neko xx

* * *

><p>"He will be fine." Says the troll, as the non-magical memories are replaced in Alfred's head.<p>

"But… he won't remember that I have magic?" Arthur asks, desperately, wanting the troll to say 'no'. But before Grandpa Roma could open his mouth, the King firmly replies, "It's for the best."

"Listen to me, Arthur, your power will only grow," says Grandpa Roma, as the Northern Lights twist and form silhouettes above their heads, "There is great beauty in your magic…" As he speaks, the images become of Arthur creating beautiful ice designs.

"But also, great danger," Grandpa Roma finishes, gravely, and the designs turn to viscous spikes.

"You must learn to control it, not hide it. Fear will be your enemy," In the silhouettes of the Aurora, the spikes are frightening human figures, they panic and attack Arthur.

The real Arthur gasps and covers his eyes with his hands. The Queen wraps her arms around him.

"We'll protect him; he will learn to control it. I know it; but, until then… we'll lock the gates. We'll reduce the staff. We'll limit his contact with people; we must keep his powers hidden from everyone; including Alfred."

The soft sounds of snowfall drift through an open window, and Alfred's ears twitch. He runs to the window, and grins widely at the sight before racing down the corridor to a green-painted door. He knocks 5 times. _Tap tap tap-tap tap!_

_"Do you wanna build a snowman? Come on, let's go and play!" _Alfred peers under the door before getting up and leaning again the panels.

_"I never see you anymore, come out the door, it's like you've gone away!" _He sighs, crossing his arms, and from the corner of his eyes, he sees an abandoned chess board, and remembers Arthur's failed attempt to teach him to play.

_"We used to be best buddies, and now we're not. I wish you would tell me why!"_ Turning around to face the door, Alfred peeks through the keyhole, trying to spot his older brother.

_"Do you wanna build a snowman?"_ Thinking again of the chessboard, he calls though the hole again, his voice distorted.

_"It doesn't have to be a snowman!"_

"Go away, Al!" The voice comes sharply, abruptly, and Alfred stops dead. His face falls as he blinks dumbly at the door, before looking down at his feet.

_"…Okay. Bye."_

Later, Arthur goes to the window in his room. His heavy brows frame red-raw eyes from crying, as he leans on the windowsill. He smiles sadly at the sight of Alfred playing in the snow, just like they used to…

Suddenly, his hands cast translucent green ice on the panes. He gasps in horror, calling for his father.

He runs in, and Arthur goes to him, wanting a hug but remembering what had just happen to the window. The King sees the ice, and frowns, before softening at Arthur's drawn up brow and red-rimmed green eyes. He reaches into his pocket, and pulls out a pair of thin dark leather gloves, the kind they used for riding horses.

He slips them onto Arthur's small hands. "Here. These will help, see?" Before Arthur can object, the King grabs his covered hands tight. Arthur's face relaxes in relief, both with the fact that he hadn't iced his father, and that his father was still unafraid to touch him.

The King catches his chin and pulls his head up to look Arthur in the eye. "Conceal it…"

"Don't feel it…" Arthur continues.

They finish together, **"Don't let it show."**

Four years later, and a now nine year old Alfred is running down the corridor again. He knocks, excitedly, five times on Arthur's door. _Tap tap tap-tap tap!_

_"Do you wanna build a snowman?" _Spotting a bike built for two, resting in the opposite room, he calls.

_"Or ride our bike around the halls? I think some company is overdue…"_ Thinking about the portrait room that the two used to frequent, and how they used to act as the people in the paintings to make each other laugh, he sighs.

_"I've started talking to the pictures on the walls! _Hang in there, Leif!" He smiles at the painting of Leif Erikson that hung in the corridor on the way to his room.

_"It gets a little lonely, all these empty rooms, just watching the hours tick by!" _Sitting at the base of the grandfather clock in Arthur's favourite room, the library, Alfred begins to tick along with the pendulum.

_"Tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock!"_

After Alfred has gone, the elusive Arthur cracks open the door and peeks out, looking for any sign of his younger brother. Again, his eyes are red and swollen from crying, as they always are after Alfred visits his rooms. Arthur grits his teeth firmly, screwing up his face in an effort to not start crying again, before turning sharply and slamming the door, leaning backwards onto his hands still resting on the handle.

A cracking sound makes his eyes fly open, however, as he turns he sees his hands casting thick green sea-ice over the door handle before it starts spreading to the walls. He shrieks in horror, curling his hand into fists and watching as the entire wall shimmers with frozen crystals. Icicles hang from the ceiling.

The King and Queen hammer their way through the door in a disturbing parallel of what happened four years ago in the ballroom. Arthur turns to them, keeping his hands screwed up behind his back.

"I'm scared! It's getting stronger!" He cries. Despite being twelve, he still longs for his parents to wrap him in a hug, and rock him to sleep like they used to. To whisper 'it's okay' in his ear. But, as his father goes to hug him, his eyes go wide as he remembers what he's just done. "No!" he yells, "Don't touch me!"

The King stops short in shock, and the Queen raises her hands to her mouth. "Please," Arthur begs, tears once more dripping from his eyes, "You have to understand! I don't want to hurt you!"

The King and Queen exchange alarmed and despairing glances.

Another six years have passed, and Alfred, now a strapping fifteen year old, runs past Arthur's door without stopping.

In the King and Queen's rooms, Alfred runs in and launches himself into his parent's arms. They groan exaggeratedly, and he grins. "See you in two weeks!" He promises, and smiling, they nod.

When Alfred has left and their bags have been packed, the King and Queen make their way to Arthur's room. He bows formally, not trusting himself enough to touch them, and their faces are solemn and sad.

"Do you have to go?" All the emotion not shown on his face or in his body language is shown in his voice and his eyes. His green orbs glisten with desperation, fear and unshed tears, and his voice quivers and shakes.

"You'll be fine, Arthur." The King promises. The hand wanting to go to his son ends up on his wife's shoulder.

The King and Queen board the vessel to the neighbouring kingdom of Sámi, in Sverige. They wave to Alfred, who has come to see them off. Arthur is nowhere to be seen.

The _Advenna Avis,_ carrying the King and Queen of Arendelle, runs into a terrible storm. The sea rages in torment and lightning flashes, illuminating the skies. The ship is lost to the waves.

The portrait of King Agðar and Queen Iðunn of Arendelle is covered with thin, black cloth. A scream of sorrow echoes through the castle.

Alfred gazes at the two rock monoliths, the burial stones of his parents. His people are to the back of him, lending the silent support that Arthur once did.

The passage of time warps immensely after tragedy. Weeks, or months, later, and Alfred makes his way up Arthur's corridor once more. He walks the slowest he ever has, his body heavy with grief; his clothes are still the black of mourning. He knocks on the door, five times. _Tap tap tap-tap tap…_

_"Arthur?"_ Alfred's face is weary with grief, his eyes red. He looks once more at the pale green door in front of him.

_"Please, I know you're in there. People are asking where you've been," _He thinks of the kindly cook, the staff and well-wishers from the town.

_"They say, 'have courage', and I'm trying to! I'm right out here for you,"_ Thinking of the eight year old face, the only face of Arthur's that he knows. The face he hasn't seen for ten years.

_"Just let me in." _Alfred turns and slides down the door, curling up at the bottom with his arms around his knees and his head against the panels. A mimicry of ten years ago.

_"We only have each other. It's just you and me,"_ He's desperate now. Alfred opens his sparkly blue eyes wide, tears trailing as he stares unseeingly at the black-covered portrait opposite Arthur's door.

_"What are we gonna do...?"_ Memories trail past his vision, things that he and his brother had done together, for each other. All cold, all snow-filled. A smile cracks his dry lips as he remembers.

_"Do you wanna build a snowman?"_

On the opposite side of the door is Arthur, curled up with his arms around his knees and his head resting against the frost-covered panels behind him. Green eyes are glazed and unseeing, cheeks blotchy and streaked with crystallised tears. His chest shakes with the effort of keeping his sobs silent.

Around the room, everything is frozen with sea-ice. Mint-coloured snowflakes hang in the air, suspended by grief.


	3. Chapter 3

Wow, it's been a long time. I've discovered the inspiration to start publishing some of my other works, and I saw this just sitting here, patiently, and thought 'Aww shucks. May as well update the Frozen thing'.

This is an extra long chapter for those that still believe I exist. Have fun, and I'm sorry for the wait!

Three years later, and a new dawn rises over the fjord. Ships moor at the docks, and people in fancy frocks and crisp military suits pile out and into the town.

A small boy with sandy coloured hair and thick eyebrows glares at his mum. "Why do I have to wear this?" He whines, gesturing at his new jacket, "I want to wear my sailor's suit!"

"The King has come of age, Peter!" The woman admonishes, fixing his collar before turning to her own dress and brushing out the wrinkles, "It's Coronation Day for Arendelle!"

"That's not _my_ fault." Grumbles the boy, but his blue eyes glisten in excitement nonetheless. The King and the Prince were _supposedly_ his older cousins (though Peter thought they were both jerks, _especially _the older one, whom no-one has seen for over ten years) but a coronation was a coronation, and that meant free food!

The two pass under the raised maypole and a nearby ice harvester doffs his cap to the lady. His crystalline violet eyes twinkle behind his glasses, and long blond hair dances around his neck, a stray curl dangling over his eye.

His reindeer struts around excitedly, looking more like a prancing pony than a reindeer. The now a young man laughs and smacks his neck lightly. "What do you want, Gil?"

**"A snack! I want an awesome snack!"** 'Gil' replies, as the man leans in and speaks for him.

"Oh, do you?" The man replies, chuckling, "What's the magic word?"

**"Please, not-as-awesome-as-me-but-still-pretty-awesome-Mattie! Gimme a carrot?"**

'Mattie' raises an eyebrow, and sighs. "You twisted my arm, go on." Pulling out a carrot, he offered it to the reindeer that immediately ate the whole thing.

"Hey, hey, hey! Share, Gilbert, be polite!" 'Mattie' admonished in a similar way to the woman and her child. The reindeer seemed to laugh, and pulled back his lips to show the remnants of the carrot. The man winced.

"Actually, I'll just grab some maple sap from the trading ships…"

Further along the dock, a _petit_ Duke wearing heeled boots is clacking along the boards, his son and two guards next to him. The son looks up through a silky curtain of blond hair, his blue eyes shining, "Ah, Arendelle," he begins to his father, a distinctly French accent colouring his words, "Our most mysterious trading partner. 'ow I cannot wait to unlock your secrets and exploit your riches…"

"Don't say that out loud, Francis!" The Duke admonished, a very different accent coming from him, though his greedy eyes do not leave the castle, "Honestly, you've spent too much time with your mother…"

The group continue to argue as they walk over the bridge toward the castle gates, passing an Italian and a Spanish Dignitary.

"I cannot see why these people are making such a fuss over a pair of stupid _bastardo_ brats!" The Italian huffs, crossing his arms and glaring at the paving stones. The Spaniard places his hands on the shoulders of the Italian man, and speaks jovially, "_Calmarse, mi pequeño tomate! _Don't be so glum. I bet they are beautiful."

The Italian raises a condescending eyebrow at the complement and turns away, "Well if that's what you think…!" He threatens, and storms off to find his brother, the Spaniard rushing after him, spouting apologies and more irritating pet-names.

Inside the castle, there is a large room with a beautifully carved bed, and red, white and blue walls. The colourful walls are draped with many a tapestry, depicting heroes and knights in battle, eagles in flight, and one that was simply a gorgeous embroidered landscape of green sea-ice. That particular tapestry rested above the head of the bed; an eighteenth birthday gift for one Prince Alfred, currently asleep, from his brother, via. the maid.

However, there was one thing very wrong with that room. The prince was not supposed to be asleep.

"Prince Alfred?" Came a butler's hesitant voice. Alfred snorted and smacked his lips before turning over in bed.

"…Prince Alfred? Are… you awake yet?" A louder cough and a second snort occur before Alfred sits up on his forearms. His hair is a wild mess, and his face has pillow lines and drool.

"…Yeah, yeah, Toris. Im'up, I'swear." He yawns, rubbing his face tiredly.

His personal butler, Toris, sounded apologetic as always. "Sorry to wake you, sir, but-"

"Oh, no, 'course you didn't!" Alfred stretches, mouth gaping in another yawn, "I've been up f'r hours." He falls back into his bed in a half-hearted attempt to get up, and as soon as his head hits the pillow, he's asleep again. He snores loudly, rolling around and off the bed, his head jerking up when he hits the ground. "Who is it?" Alfred calls in response to the thud of his body hitting the wood.

"Still me, sir. It's time to get up and ready." Toris replies tiredly, still on the other side of the door.

"Ready? For wha'?" Alfred asks mid-stretch.

"…Your brother's coronation, sir."

"M'brother's… cor'nation…" He slurs, his head tilting just enough to catch sight of the view from the window. "Yes!" he crows, "It's Coronation Day! _Haha!"_

Ten minutes later, a thrilled Alfred races through the halls, grabbing the hands of the nearest maid he sees and waltzing her around in glee.

"Oh Thor! It's Coronation Day today!" He shouts, before racing away once more, leaving the befuddled maid in a stupor. Spotting another servant opening the entrances to one of the main dining halls, his eyes go wide and he gasps with the thrill.

_"The window is open, so's that door! I didn't know they did that anymore,"_ Rushing through the corridor, he comes upon a group of servants carrying mountain upon mountain of plates.

_"Who knew we owned eight thousand salad plates?!" _He dances quickly between the lines of staff, grins widely, and quickly picks up a plate and examines his hair, before placing it on another pile.

_"For years I've roamed these empty halls, why have a ballroom with no balls?"_ Alfred runs through the entryway to the large ballroom and skids, sliding through the empty room, throwing his arms up in glee.

_"Finally, they're opening up the gates!" _Jumping onto the banister, Alfred pushes off and yells in delight, spiralling down the staircase and landing heavily in front of a line of suits of armour.

_"There'll be real, actual people," _He grabs the hand of the nearest 'knight' and shakes it rapidly, accidently breaking the arm off; as he looks down, Alfred notices the crushed gauntlet. He winces.

_"It'll be totally strange,"_ Looking around quickly, as if expecting a maid to appear from thin air, he stuffs the arm back into the socket, handily ignoring the sound of buckling metal.

_"But, wow, am I so ready for this change!" _Running over to the nearest window, Alfred's eyes gleam in triumph and pleasure at the ship's masts he sees over the roofs and peaks of Arendelle.

_"And for the first time in forever, there'll be music,"_ Alfred jumps onto the window-washer's cradle, and leans against the ropes as he begins to pull himself up. The full bodies of the ships sailing into the fjord are slowly revealed to his glistening azure eyes.

_"There'll be light."_ he counts the flags he sees, smiling. Red and gold; blue, white, red; blue and white; red and white; green, red and white; black, red and yellow; white, gold and black; more red and white; more blue…

_"For the first time in forever, I'll be dancing though the night!"_ Images of ballgowns and suits flash through Alfred's vision, everything his parents had ever told him about, finally coming true. Focusing back on the view in front of him, Alfred's body betrays him and he swings back and forth on the cradle like a child.

Once he's made his way to the castle gardens, his mind begins to second-guess his child-like dreams, and a feeling of butterflies starts to rumble in his stomach.

_"Don't know if I'm elated or gassy…"_ The feeling builds up further, making his stomach clench and his throat tighten. The anxious feeling's slowly getting stronger now, and Alfred almost thinks he'll be sick.

_"But I'm somewhere in that zone,"_ He wraps an arm around his middle, and a hand across his mouth, squeezing his eyes closed. They fly back open again, however, when the most horrendous belch exits his mouth. Alfred blinks in a stupor, the sick feeling gone.

"Oh." Taking a deep breath, the excitement returns in a flash, and he grins stupidly.

_"'Cause for the first time in forever, I won't be alone. _Oh, Thor, I can't wait to meet everyone…" His cerulean gaze flits over the stained glass set in the wall opposite him, the scene of a banquet with two lovers hiding in the background. It was one of Arthur's favourites.

Suddenly, Alfred's eyes go wide. "What if I meet _the_ one?!" He looks around him in shock and slow-growing realisation, before bolting back inside.

_"Tonight, imagine me, suit and all, fetchingly leaning against the wall,"_ He darts inside one of the old ballrooms, spotting a purple drape curtain and throwing it over his shoulders in a mockery of a cape. He laughs loudly, and the servants outside pause at the abrupt noise before sighing and continuing their duties.

_"The picture of sophisticated grace! I suddenly see her standing there,"_ Alfred swishes his shoulders in excitement and flicks his fringe, pointedly ignoring the one bleached strand that refuses to comply. He looks ridiculous.

_"A beautiful stranger, tall and fair. I wanna stuff some burgers in my face!"_ He glances over at the bust of a young woman from the corner of his eye, and slowly – and conspicuously – makes his way over, trying hard not to make eye-contact. (He looks ridiculous). Arriving at the bust, Alfred feels another rumble in his stomach and begins glancing round in desperation for any burgers as a mad craving sets in.

_"But then we laugh and talk all evening, which is totally bizarre, nothing like the life I've led so far!" _Picking up the bust, which happens to be the female form of Loki, he swings it around madly, and quickly loses his grip, sending it flying into the purple cake nearby. Alfred winces, and rapidly exits the ballroom in favour of the portrait room.

_"For the first time in forever, there'll be magic, there'll be fun." _Alfred throws open the doors of the portrait room and runs over to the painting of a village dance. He smiles fondly, and poses in front of the man.

_"For the first time in forever, I could be noticed by… someone,"_ He goes from picture to picture, always posing as the male, and always unconsciously staring up in longing at the scene.

_"And I know it's totally crazy, to dream I'd find romance!"_ Alfred begins bouncing off the low-backed chaises, first for fun, then posing in front of the pictures in mid-air.

_"But for the first time in forever, at least I got a chance…"_


	4. Chapter 4

Oh wow. Wadda ya know. I'm back.

So I just started a new year at college, it's been... weird. As such, my carefully laid out and recorded update schedule for _Kismet_ is officially out of the window. **it's been over two weeks without an update i am so sorry RL kicked me in the balls and ive onlyjust realisediDOnTHAVeANY****SOwhyISTHIshuRTING**

urgh. So I figured I'd update something, and I've still got a couple of thousand words left for this just sitting around gathering dust. Ergo, update. I WILL TRY TO UPDATE KISMET ASAP, however I'm also going to try and prevent this kind of hiatus from happening again by posting some more random bits of crap that I managed to type.

Some of them will perhaps form plot bunnies.

Some will be vacuumed up by my Mum.

Either way, enjoy the chapter.

P.T.O. - Neko x

At the same time, up in the higher floors of the castle, a straight-backed Arthur stands looking out of the window at the gathering guests. His hair is combed and pulled back tightly; his eyebrows have been (painstakingly) plucked, pruned and primped. His clothes are of the very highest quality, and fitted to perfection. He looks every inch the Crown Prince. But as he looks down at his own gloved hands, he knows that is not the case.

_"Don't let them in. Don't let them see," _He looks back out of the window at the smiling faces of those in the crowd, and then turns away, conflicted.

_"Be the good boy you always have to be," _Striding slowly over to the low table and mounted painting of his father at his own coronation. He slides off a glove.

_"Conceal."_ He bends to the table and picks up a large brass candlestick and a small pot.

_"Don't feel. Put on a show!"_ He turns, mirroring the portrait behind him, then glances down in dismay at his hands.

_"Make one wrong move and everyone will know."_ His face crumbles as the green ice he dreads snakes over the surface of the mock orb and sceptre.

**_"But it's only for today!"_**Unconsciously, across the castle, the siblings begin to mirror each other with their singing – the same lyrics from the mouths of the two very different princes. Arthur looks down at his hands in worry, as Alfred leans out of a bay window to watch the ships.

**_"It's agony to wait!"_** Arthur pulls on his gloves, a determined look overcoming his apprehension. Alfred throws open the great, grand doors to the castle and leaped down the stairs, his blue eyes shining.

_"Tell the guards to open up… __**the gate!"**_ Arthur begins, opening the door to his room with resolve and proclaiming to the servants for the gates to be opened for the first time in thirteen years. In the courtyard of the castle, Alfred is waiting and bobbing about impatiently as the gates are finally opened.

_"For the first time in forever-_**Don't let them in, don't let them see-" **Jumping out of through the gap between the still-opening gates, Alfred comes upon the crowd waiting to see the princes. Smiling and laughing, he greets the guests with feverish delight. In contrast, Arthur is striding slowly and firmly toward the balcony doors where the crowd will catch their first glimpse of the crown prince.

_"I'm getting what I'm dreaming of-_**Be the good boy you always have to be-" **On the bridge to the castle, Alfred ducks under the huge (replacement) cake made by the patisserie in the town; he tries not to recognise it as he grins wider at the crowd of guests. Arthur, meanwhile, swings open the balcony door with elegance, chanting swiftly under his breath.

_"A chance to leave my brother's world-_**Conceal…" **Alfred jumps up onto one of the tall iron flagpoles set into the bridge, swinging around it and looking out at the widest view he's ever seen of his town. Arthur takes his first step onto the balcony, his sparkling verdant eyes widen imperceptibly at the masses now in the courtyard.

_"A chance to find true love-_**Conceal, don't feel, don't let them know…!"** Holding on with one hand, Alfred brings his other close to his heart in a fist, before looking up again with the look of 'adventure' on his face. On the balcony, Arthur squeezes his eyes shut, chanting again with desperation.

_"I know it all ends tomorrow, so it has to be today!"_ Alfred begins to jog across the wall of the bridge, using a nearby guy's shoulder to swing down onto the paving stones in a flourish; he turns a little over his shoulder to wave to the little girl in the guy's arms before hurrying over the bridge.

_"'Cause for the first time in forever… for the first time in forever…!"_ Dashing about and parading through the town square, Alfred's gleaming bright eyes take in everything about Arendelle that he simply hasn't seen. He runs through the market building and over to mooring spots for small vessels, gazing out at the sea.

_"Nothin's in my way!"_ Alfred takes a few more hesitant strides along the stone steps before gathering speed and confidence and breaking out into a run. He closes his eyes at the feel of the sea-wind brushing against his skin and throws back his arms in sheer joy at the feeling of such _freedom—_

Alfred slams right into the breast of a horse, losing his balance immediately. He falls backward, stumbling, and falls head over heels into a small wooden boat moored on the stones. The weight of the prince's body sends the boat tipping off the dock and Alfred nearly goes overboard. Just in time, the aforementioned horse slams his hoof into the bottom of the boat, keeping it steady.

Alfred looks up at the horse (and rider) in frustration, "Hey, man!"

The rider looks down in concern. Her hair is long and pulled into two ponytails tied with red ribbon, and her skin is pale brown and flawless. "I'm so sorry!" She says, alarmed, "Are you hurt?"

"Hey. I-uh. No, no. I'm okay." Alfred stutters after a mental double-take. His voice is somehow much softer than before.

"Are you sure?" Asks the (cute) rider, golden-brown eyes flashing in worry.

"Yeah, yeah," Alfred replies, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips, "I just wasn't looking where I was going. But I'm okay." The rider hops down from her horse and steps into the boat, standing awkwardly as Alfred then proceeds to get up and dusts himself off.

Their eyes meet, and there is a moment of silence, before the girl jumps perceptibly and curtseys, "Allow me to introduce myself! I'm Princess Michelle of the Southern Isles."

An easy smile slides onto Alfred's face, and he bows lowly at the waist, "Prince Alfred of Arendelle."

Gold eyes widen. "Prince…?" Then suddenly, it seems to click inside Michelle's brain and she kneels hurriedly, "Your Highness!"

Alfred winces at the move and opens his mouth to speak, but before he can, both he and Michelle are thrown backwards by her horse's bow. As the hoof of the horse comes up, the boat tips down and Michelle is flung forwards into Alfred, who then falls back into the bow of the boat.

Alfred ends up underneath Michelle, propping himself up with a (furiously stinging) elbow and his other arm _somehow_ around her waist. "Uh…hi," He says, awkwardly, "Again." Michelle grins.

The horse swiftly rectifies his mistake, and sends Alfred and Michelle tumbling the other way, Alfred now on top. He catches himself on one arm to avoid crushing the Princess, and the _other _arm is wrapped around Michelle's waist, preventing her from hurting her back. Michelle's hands rest on the Prince's bicep and shoulder.

The Princess' face flushes bright red and she mutters, "Oh boy." Her eyes dart away and back to his face. Alfred starts to ramble, quickly getting to his feet and offering Princess Michelle his hand.

"Hehe. This is awkward. I mean… not that you're awkward, but just that because – I'm awkward. You're beautiful; wait, what?"

Michelle laughs, the sound of tinkling bells fading into the sea-surf and cutting off Alfred's self-deprecating rant. "I'd like to formally apologise for hitting the Prince of Arendelle with my horse," she says, curtseying again, "And for every moment after."

"No, no!" Alfred cries in alarm, "It's fine, really! I mean… I'm not _that_ Prince; like if it'd been my brother, Arthur, _that_ would have been… _eek!_ But ya know…" Alfred had been slowly backing up the whole time after helping up the Princess, and as he turned to step back onto the jetty, he came face-to-face with the Princess' horse. "Hello…" He smiles, and pats him quickly, before turning back to Michelle. "But, lucky you, it's just me."

"Just you?" Michelle asks, amused, and smiles. Alfred grins back, dazed, and begins to hear bells. At first it seems a part of the moment, but then he remembers abruptly what day and time it is.

"…The bells. The coronation! I-I b-better go… I have to- I better go!" Alfred turns and starts off to the bridge, before pausing and giving Michelle a little wave. "Bye!" He rushes off again, and Michelle is left standing in a stupor, waving back inanely. Her horse also raises its hoof in acknowledgement, and Michelle looks down, "Oh no."

The boat tips once more and falls, dumping Michelle into the water with the boat landing over her, upside-down. She pushes it off her, gasping for breath, and smiles.

Inside the oldest church in Arendelle, the Crown Prince Arthur of Arendelle is about to become a King. The patterned glass dims the bright light of summer, and the choir sit in a wood-engraved balcony above the altar.

Arthur stands at the altar, dressed in finery, with a long plum-coloured cape acting as the train on a bride. Alfred stands to one side, smiling gently. He glances quickly out at the audience and gives a little wave as a reply to Michelle's.

Finally, the crown is rested on Arthur's tamed hair. The orb and sceptre have been laid out on a pillow and are presented to Arthur; the same ones that the monarchs of Arendelle have used for centuries. Arthur breathes out nervously; they look almost familiar from how many times he's studied the painting of his father. He goes to pick them up.

"Your Highness," The presiding bishop whispers hesitantly, "The gloves…"

Jerkily, Arthur nods and pulls of his thin leather gloves, laying them on the pillow. His hands quiver as he grasps the orb and sceptre, and turns to his people. The bishop begins to chant.

_"Sem hann heldur í heilögu eiginleika, og er að krýnd í þessum helga stað, ek té fram fyrir yðr... _[He holds the sacred qualities, and is crowned in this holy place, I provide before thee…]"

Arthur chances a glimpse down and not a second later looks back up, eyes wide with panic at the spreading ice. All he does is pray, silently, that his people can't see it.

"…King Arthur of Arendelle." And the crowd echoes, reverently.

Hurriedly, Arthur sets down the orb and sceptre, blocking the view of the crowd with his body. Pulling on his gloves with a swiftness born from endless practice, he turns to the crowd as they rise and start to applaud. A light blush rises in his cheeks, and he smiles hesitantly at his people.

He made it.

HAhahahHAHAHA So Hetalia proxy-Hans is revealed! kesesesesesesesese~

I have always hated Seychelles (which is Michelle by the way, if you didn't get it) and I don't know why.

fuckin fish girl *grumbles* ALSO, did you get my thing with her being_ of the southern isles_ and she's **SEYCHELLES** (I was so proud of myself).

kk, I'll go now. bai xx

P.T.O. - Neko x


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